Countdown
by madri
Summary: A story about a boy who couldn't get over himself and a couple that was doomed never to work.
1. Five

Michael still remembers when he first saw her. It was a cool summer night when he was fourteen years old. He was in the Big House putting away the telekhine claw he'd gotten on his last quest. Just as he was coming back down the stairs from the attic, the front door opened and a small group of people came in.

Leading the way was Chiron, packed into his wheelchair. Behind him were two girls, a brunette about his age and a blond a little younger. The brunette was chatting animatedly to Chiron; the blond had her arms crossed over her chest and was remaining sullenly silent.

"We do have some campers who are truly excellent at archery," Chiron was saying. "I know some of them will be more than happy to teach you."

"I'd love that!" the brunette said, her grin spreading from ear to ear.

Chiron turned and noticed Michael standing by the foot of the stairs. "Oh, and look, here is just such a boy now. This is Michael Yew, son of Apollo. Michael, this is Katie and Miranda Gardner, our newest campers." He indicated the brunette and the blond in turn.

Michael stuck his hands in his pockets and glanced between the two girls. "Unclaimed?" he said.

"What does that mean?" Katie asked, her smile faltering at his gruff tone.

"By your godly parent, that is," Chiron clarified.

She perked up again. "Oh, no! My dad says our mother is Demeter."

Chiron gave her a gentle smile. "And I do believe he is correct on that count. You see, gods don't always reveal their true identities to their mortal lovers, so the children here aren't always fortunate enough to know."

Katie looked taken aback. "Oh, no! That's so sad!"

Michael bristled at the pity in her voice, thinking of those six months he spent crammed into the Hermes cabin, spending every waking minute feeling like his godly father didn't care two figs about him. "We get by," he said.

Katie blinked at him. "I thought Chiron said your father was Apollo."

"He is."

"When do I get my cell phone back?" Miranda interrupted.

Chiron turned to her and said as kindly as he could, "I'm afraid you can't have it back, Miranda. Cell phones are dangerous for demigods. It attracts monsters right to you."

"You said we're safe here," she pointed out.

"It's best not to take chances."

Miranda looked like she might cry or throw a tantrum. She turned to Katie and said, "I want to go home."

"This is home now, at least for the summer, Miranda," Katie said. "Don't worry. You have me."

"I want my phone!"

"You can't have your phone." Katie's voice remained gentle and even as she spoke.

"I hate this place!"

"Michael," Chiron cut in. "Will you show them to Cabin 4, please?"

Michael gave a curt nod, then walked to the door. He looked back, but Katie and Miranda hadn't moved. "Coming?"

"No," Miranda snapped.

"Miranda, stop that," Katie said, taking her hand. "Come on."

They followed Michael out into the night. "How long have you been here, Michael?" Katie asked.

"Two years," he answered without glancing back.

"What's that over there?" Katie used her free hand to point at a glow just in the distance.

"Campfire," said Michael. "We have sing-alongs."

"Oh god, no," said Miranda, horrified.

"No one cares if you can sing."

"She has a beautiful voice," Katie told him. "You probably do too, being a son of Apollo, right?"

Michael gave a shrug. He didn't feel like explaining that while most children of Apollo were natural musicians, not all of them were. Poor tone-deaf Austin.

"Wow," Katie said breathlessly when they reached the cabins. "These are amazing!"

"That one's yours," said Michael, pointing at Cabin 4, with its brownish walls and flowered porch.

"Whose are the other ones?" Katie asked. "Wait, no, I bet I can guess some of them! That one's Poseidon, right?"

Michael nodded. "Empty, though."

"Empty?" Katie repeated. "Why?"

Michael wasn't sure why he'd mentioned anything. He didn't feel like explaining about the Pact of the Big Three. He definitely didn't feel like explaining about Thalia. "It's complicated," he said.

"Oh," Katie replied, seeming to get the hint. "Well, I guess we'll get settled in, then. Thank you for showing us around." She held out her hand to him.

Michael shook it. "Good night." Then he stuffed his hands back into his pockets and strode off for the campfire, glad that the night hid his blush.


	2. Four

"Hey, Mike."

Michael glanced around the book he was reading. It was Kayla, dumping her bag on her bed.

"When did you get here?" he asked, sitting up on his bed.

"Just now. Argus brought a bunch of us in the van."

Michael's heart leaped, but he was careful to keep his usual scowl in place. "Who else was with you?"

Kayla tapped her chin in thought. "A couple of Hephaestus kids, Chris, the Gardners…"

"Oh," he said evenly. "Well thank goodness Chris is here. Who else would lead the Goober Parade?"

"That's not very nice," Kayla said, giving him her trademark stern look.

"It's not?" Michael feigned surprise. "Thanks for letting me know, Kay."

Kayla stuck her tongue out at him. "I'm going to the archery range. I feel really out of practice. Want to come with?"

"I'll catch up later," Michael said.

"Okay. See ya, then."

As soon as she was gone, Michael jumped up and headed out as fast as he dared, hoping he'd run into her.

There she was by the lake, laughing with some of her siblings. She was taller, and… definitely more developed. Michael felt a lump in his throat. He lost his nerve. He was about to turn and leave when she looked up and caught his eye.

"Mike!" she said, and was it just his imagination or did her face light up when she said his name? She ran over to him, long brown hair streaming out behind her like a banner. Without hesitating, she grabbed him in a hug. "It's so good to see you!"

He hesitated briefly before hugging back. "Good to see you too, Katie. Been a while."

"Almost a year!" she said, stepping back. "You've grown!"

Michael ruffled his hair a bit, hoping to make it stand up a little more. "You don't have to lie."

She laughed. "Okay, fine, you've shrunk. Pretty soon you're going to disappear."

He smiled a little in spite of himself. He was glad it was summer again.

xxx

But it went by too fast. As hard as he tried to hang on to each moment, each smile, each glance, they all slipped away, one after the other, and soon it was Katie's last night at Camp again. They sat by the lake, dangling their feet in the water, while Michael silently tried to wish curfew away.

"I'm so sad I have to leave in the morning," Katie said with a sigh. "I love Montana, but… it's not the same."

"Nothing is."

"When was the last time you went home?"

Michael paused a long moment before answering. "I don't really have a home to go to anymore. Not other than here, anyway."

"Oh, Mike…"

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I have what I need."

They locked eyes for a moment, then, as if of one mind, they leaned in toward each other and their lips met.

Michael had never kissed a girl before. He knew that was a shameful thing to admit, being fifteen without kissing a girl, but just then, he didn't care. Because this moment was so perfect he wished he could catch it and put it in a bottle, to keep it safe and untouched forever.

Suddenly a hard shove from behind sent both of them right into the lake.

When he surfaced, he saw Miranda standing on the dock, clutching her stomach as she laughed so hard tears ran down her face. She caught her breath enough to gasp, "Thought you guys could use some cooling off!"

Katie spit out a mouthful of water. "Miranda!" she shrieked, mascara streaked down her cheeks.

Miranda turned and skipped off, still cackling.

"Oh gods, I am so sorry," Katie said.

Michael just shook his head, then closed the gap between them and kissed her again. Not even Katie's bratty little sister could ruin this.


	3. Three

Michael expected them to pick up where they left off the following summer. But when Katie arrived, she was quiet and withdrawn. She went straight to the pegasus stables to go flying with Kayla and Silena, without even saying hello.

He found Miranda in Cabin 4, flipping through an issue of _CosmoGirl_. "Katie's not here," she said without looking up.

"Oh, you mean you don't have her hidden under your bed? I came to ask you what's wrong with her."

"Fuck if I know."

Michael blinked. Miranda had never been the most polite when it came to her word choice, but she was twelve, and it was still weird to hear her talk like that. "Right, you only see her every day. You couldn't possibly have any idea why she's acting completely different from how she normally is."

Miranda put her magazine down in annoyance. "Be more sarcastic with me, that will get you places," she shot back.

"Hypocritical humor, that's nice."

"So you corner the market on sarcasm now?"

Michael glared at her. "I just want to know what's wrong with Katie."

"Try asking her then." She picked up her magazine to signify that the conversation was officially over.

He stood there glaring at the magazine cover for a long moment, then turned and stalked out.

He sat himself down in the pegasus stables and waited. For an hour he sat with the smell and the whinnying, just waiting. Finally the girls returned. Kayla took one look at the expression on his face and, bless her, grabbed Silena's arm. "I almost forgot to mention, I got the cutest sweater in the world last week and I have to show you."

Katie barely spared him a glance. "I'm coming with you."

Michael ground his teeth. "No, Katie, wait, I need to talk to you."

Kayla gave her a small shove towards him. "Go on. We'll meet later by the lake?"

Katie pursed her lips, then gave a small nod, and Kayla and Silena quickly hoofed it out of there.

She turned her body in his direction, but she kept her arms crossed over her chest and her face pointed at the ground. "Go on, then."

"What's the big deal!" he spat, unable to hold it in any longer. "Why are you treating me like I'm a gorgon?"

"Nine months," Katie said, sounding more hurt than angry. "Nine months I didn't hear one word from you."

Michael was stunned. "I couldn't exactly call!"

"You could have written. Like I did."

Michael had received five letters from her. The last had been a Christmas card he'd gotten in December. It had come with a hand-knitted scarf in blue and gray, his favorite colors. "I _did_ write!"

"Letters don't count if you don't mail them." In spite of what Michael could tell were her best efforts, her voice rose in uncharacteristic sharpness when she spoke. She sounded less like herself, more like her acid-tongued little sister.

_Or me_, Michael couldn't help thinking.

"I sent them!" He clenched his fists at his sides. She wasn't being fair. She was the one who was acting all weird when he'd done nothing wrong.

Finally she looked up at him. "What?"

"I sent you letters! I stopped sending them when you stopped! I thought you were busy with school or something!" His face was bright red with anger now.

"I never got any letters from you." Her voice was quiet, confused.

"Then maybe they got lost in the mail or something. But I sent them, gods dammit!"

Katie was always inclined to believe the best in people. She wouldn't jump to the conclusion that he was a liar. Her face melted into a new expression, going from stony and upset to thoroughly chagrined. "Oh gods, Michael, I'm so sorry…"

"Oh, you're sorry? You're just going to assume the worst of me and not even ask me about it? You wouldn't have said anything if I hadn't come after you, would you?" Even as the words came out of his mouth, he was kicking himself. She believed him. She'd apologized. Why was he doing this? But his blood was pumping and he couldn't stop himself.

Katie looked like he'd just slapped her. "What more do you want me to say?"

He shook his head. "Forget it. I understand completely what I mean to you." He turned and left. She didn't try to follow.

The shooting range was empty when he got there. He strung his favorite bow and had put three arrows in the center of a target when a voice startled him into fumbling the fourth shot.

"Way to handle it like a pro, big bro."

Michael clenched his jaw and nocked another shot.

"Kayla told me that I'd probably want to come check on you." Austin stepped up beside him, stringing a bow for himself. "I can see that she was right."

"Kayla can mind her gods-damned business." Michael aimed another shot, but he found himself unable to focus, and the arrow barely stuck in the edge of the target.

Beside him, Austin hit a perfect bull's-eye. Austin may not have inherited the Apollo musical gift, but he was the second-best archer in Camp, after Lee—much to Michael's annoyance, as he was older.

"You _are_ her business," Austin pointed out coolly. "You're my business too. Listen, Mike, everybody in Camp knows you like her."

This pronouncement so startled Michael that he fumbled the shot completely again. "Of course I like Kayla, even if she doesn't know when to butt out. She's my sister. I have to like her."

"And everybody at Camp _also_ knows that you're about as good at showing affection as a pissed-off manticore," Austin went on, as if he hadn't spoken. "So if you want my advice—"

"Which I don't."

"—you should go to her and apologize. Try talking to her without getting yourself all lathered up into a righteous fury. What's more important: her, or your pride?"

Michael hated it when Austin got like this. He called it his Lawyer Mode. He hated it because Austin always made too much sense in it. "Right, I forgot, you know all about girls."

"Hey, bro, it doesn't matter what parts are involved. These truths are universal."

Michael had played the "you're gay and know nothing about women" card to no avail, as expected. He was out of ammo. In frustration, he threw an arrow down so that the tip stuck in the ground.

Austin took that, correctly, as a sign that Michael knew he was right. He grinned. "Maybe this will be a lesson: you need better penmanship."

Of all the ways Michael expected Austin to end that sentence, a crack at his penmanship wasn't one of them. "What? What are you talking about?" So much for making too much sense.

"Those letters probably got lost in the mail because the postman couldn't read your damn chicken scratch."

"You're hilarious."

"Think I ought to go into comedy?"

"Yes. The audience would take one look at your face and get the best laugh of their lives."

Austin put a hand over his heart. "Ouch."

xxx

But apologizing wasn't going to be as easy as Austin seemed to think. Even with Kayla constantly trying to set up opportunities for him, Michael kept getting tongue-tied and flustered. He'd start to speak and find himself somehow already on the defensive, and he could tell by the look on Katie's face that he was already saying the wrong things. At least five times he aborted his attempted apologies before they even really got started.

And then, somehow, illogically, it was the end of the summer again. He could have screamed. This wasn't fair!

He found himself down by the archery range near curfew the night before everybody was set to leave. It was too dark to shoot, so the place was deserted. He paced up and down, muttering to himself, trying to resist the urge to hit something.

"Mike?"

The voice stopped him dead in his tracks. He felt his whole body tense up. _Turn around_, he ordered himself. _Turn around and face her_. But he couldn't. He shoved his hands into his pockets and said to the air in front of him, "Yeah?"

"I… I wanted to see you before we left tomorrow." Katie's voice was quiet, like she worried a loud noise might set him off.

_Congratulations, asshole_, he chided himself silently. _She's afraid of you now_.

He gritted his teeth and turned jerkily, like a cog that needed oiling. "Is that so," he said evenly.

She bit her lip and nodded. "I just… couldn't bear the thought of leaving with us… like… like this."

"I'm sorry," he blurted out gruffly.

"What?"

"I said I'm sorry, can't you hear?" he snapped. Then he stopped himself and took a breath. "I'm sorry for that too. I don't…" He closed his eyes and tried to collect himself. "I don't know why I act the way I do. I'm not… good at words like Austin or people like Kayla. But I don't want to fuck this up. I… I… like you, Katie, and I hate myself for treating you the way I have."

Without a word, Katie closed the distance between them and threw her arms around him in a hug. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did when I first got here. And I should have tried harder to patch things up later, instead of letting the summer get away from us like this. I just… didn't know if you wanted… me… around…"

"No, it was my fault."

"But I should have—"

"I said it was my fault, not yours, dammit." He feared she might pull away, so he held her close. She made no attempt to push him off. She was taller than last summer, taller than him by several inches. Normally he was acutely aware of his height—or rather, lack thereof—but strangely, just then, it didn't occur to him.

He realized with a start that she was crying. He pulled away so that he could look at her face. "What? What is it? Did I hurt you?"

She gave him a watery smile. "I'm just happy."

When they kissed this time, it was even better than before, even with the salty tears running down Katie's cheeks. Michael's stomach did a somersault, a not entirely unpleasant sensation. He felt the kiss throughout his whole body, all the way down to his toes. And this time, there was no lake, and no obnoxious little sister to push them in. It truly was just the two of them, with only the stars overhead watching.

When at last they broke apart, both of them feeling the reluctance like an ache, Katie buried her face in his neck. "I promise this summer to print more neatly," he said quietly.

She gave a small confused laugh. "What?"

"Austin said my letters probably got lost in the mail because the postman couldn't read my writing. I'll write more neatly this time, or have someone else address them, or something."

Katie giggled. "Okay. I'll be looking forward to it."


	4. Two

But it didn't help. Michael knew Katie wasn't getting his letters because she said so in the ones she wrote him: _Maybe you are busy. It happens, especially with things the way they are_, one said. Another suggested, _Maybe I wrote our address down wrong. Here is the correct one._ But it was the same one he'd already had. And he knew it couldn't be his handwriting, because he'd asked Silena to address them for him, and her penmanship was a work of art.

When everyone began to arrive for the summer, he didn't hesitate. He went to the hill and sat by Peleus the dragon where he lay guarding the Golden Fleece that Percy Jackson had brought back the summer before. He sat and he waited for Katie to arrive himself. And when he saw her and Miranda making their way up the hill, he ran down to meet her.

"I wrote, I swear I wrote. I wrote like ten letters, maybe even twenty. For Christmas I sent you this perfume that Silena said you would love. I don't know what could have happened. The address was right, and legible, and everything."

Katie just looked at him, startled and bemused. Then suddenly she smiled. "It's okay, Mike. I believe you."

Behind her, Miranda made a face. Even she was taller than him now, he noted with irritation.

"I'm going to go put my stuff away and then I'll meet you by the lake, okay?" She leaned down and gave him a peck on the cheek, then hurried off to her cabin. He watched her go, hoping no one else noticed the flush in his cheeks.

"'Dear Katie, the time I spend with you is always the best time of the summer.'" The taunting voice behind him snapped him out of his reverie.

He spun around. Miranda was still standing there, grinning at him.

"_You!"_ he said, his good mood gone faster than he would have thought possible. _"You_ took my letters?"

"'When we kissed, all I could think about was how much I wanted your mouth around my hard—'"

"_I didn't write that!"_

"You might as well have. Every letter was just like, 'Dear Katie, I want to fuck you like an animal. Yours, Mike.'"

He was too angry for words. "What—just—_why—_"

"Because you're not getting any, I'd imagine."

"I mean, _why did you take my letters?"_

"To read them, stupid. And I couldn't very well give them to Katie after I'd opened them, could I?"

"You—you are the worst person I've ever met!"

Miranda gave a giggle and a mock-curtsy. "Why thank you."

He advanced on her. "I am going to _kill_ you."

She danced backward out of his reach. "Ah ah, how would your beloved feel if you killed her darling little sister?"

"Yeah, you're a real darling! Taking her mail and letting her worry!"

Miranda tapped her lips with a finger thoughtfully. "Ah, but was she that worried? She seemed all right to me."

"Because she knew there was a reasonable explanation for it!"

She grinned as if he'd said just what she'd wanted to hear. "So wait, was she worried or wasn't she? I'm a little confused."

"You can just fuck right off!" he roared.

Miranda only giggled again. "Temper, temper," she admonished, skipping off down the hill toward her cabin. "The perfume smelled like piss, by the way!"

Michael just stood there, fuming. "What are you looking at?" he snapped at Peleus, who responded with a snort of smoke out his nostrils before he laid his head back down to take a nap.

xxx

But even the little hellion that was Miranda Gardner couldn't ruin things this time. He was determined that he was going to take full advantage of his time with Katie this summer, everyone else be damned.

Unfortunately, the first time an Ares kid set to taunting him about it—a clever and original song about sitting in a tree k-i-s-i-n-g; the Ares cabin was full of such wits—he lost it. Of course, the Ares kid in question was, like most of the Ares kids, at least twice as big as him, so it was Michael who ended up in the infirmary.

To her credit, Katie waited until he could move all his limbs again before she lectured him. "You can't keep doing this, Mike."

"You're right. Next time I'll just shoot him and be done with it."

Katie sighed. "That's not what I meant. Your temper. You always let it get the better of you!"

"So, what, are you saying I should just let people push me around?"

"That's not what I'm saying at all," she told him patiently. "There are more than two possible outcomes for this."

"Not really," Michael snapped.

"Well, take me, for example. I keep my temper in check, wouldn't you say? But people don't push me around."

"Uh, come again?"

Katie frowned. "What? Are you trying to say people do push me around?"

"I'm saying that sometimes you're kind of a doormat."

He knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say—of course it was. He should have realized that _before_ he spoke. But he'd said it, and he couldn't take it back now.

Katie just sat there staring at him for a long moment. "I think I should go now."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Yes, you did." She got to her feet and headed for the door. "You never say things you don't mean, Michael." And she was gone.

"Bravo, Romeo."

Michael looked up as Will appeared in the doorway through which Katie had just left. If he'd been in the shape to do it, Michael would have gotten up and punched him right in his smug face. "Got nothing better to do than eavesdrop?"

"I've got loads of better things to do, actually, but unfortunately I'm on duty right now so it's my job to make sure you're healing properly. I waited until you two were done and unfortunately I couldn't help overhearing a few things."

"Yeah, whatever. Just do what you need to do and get the fuck out."

Will held up his hands. "Hey, hey, don't blame me for your characteristic complete lack of tact."

"That's rich coming from you, King of the Ramblers," Michael snarled.

Will shrugged as he began giving Michael a cursory examination. "I only know that nothing I've said to Katie has ever made her get up and leave a room just so she didn't have to talk to me anymore."

"Yeah, because you and Katie are such good friends."

"Actually," Will said, flexing Michael's once-broken arm harder than was necessary, "we are pretty good friends. I'm going to teach her how to play the guitar."

It was his words that really hurt, but Michael was determined not to show it. "I know how to play the guitar."

"Yeah. That's funny, isn't it?"

"You stay away from her."

Will frowned. "Last I checked, Katie can spend time with whoever she wants to spend time with."

"You just wait, Will Solace," Michael hissed. "We may share a father but if you do this I will have no reservations whatsoever with taking you out."

"I'm not doing anything," Will said. "Katie was the one who asked me. If I wanted to date her—and who says I even do?—I would just let you continue to sabotage yourself. Drink this and you should be able to go back to the cabin by tonight." He left a glass of nectar on the bedside table, then turned to leave. On his way out, he paused at the door. "You know, Michael, contrary to what your persecution complex might lead you to believe, I'm not actually out to get you. You were the one who called Katie a doormat, not me. Think about that."

When Michael was finally alone, he grudgingly drank the nectar. It tasted like the salt water taffy he'd shared with Katie just the week before. He closed his eyes and in spite of himself, his last words to her went around and around and around in his head.

xxx

"You aren't a doormat."

Katie looked up from the small garden just outside her cabin that she was tending. "Wh-what?"

"You aren't a doormat," Michael said again. "You're… a peacemaker. You let other people think they've won because a fight isn't always worth it. A lesson I should probably learn at some point."

She placed the watering can carefully on the ground beside her. "Yes, it is."

"Do you think maybe… you could teach me?"

She looked him over. "I could try."

"I… would like that."

She stood up and walked over to him, taking his hand. "You weren't entirely wrong, either. I am a doormat sometimes. That's… why it bothered me so much when you said that. Because I knew it was true."

"I shouldn't have said it."

She shrugged. "Maybe you shouldn't have. I criticized you first, though, remember. I'm not going to sit here and pretend I'm perfect and let you think you're the only one who ever does anything wrong. Because maybe you're not perfect, but I'm certainly not either. And… even if I wish you wouldn't be so angry all the time, I… I admire it about you, in a way. You have a lot of passion and conviction. I wish I could have half as much as you."

Michael could feel himself getting flustered. "Stop it. Nobody wants to be more like me. Everybody loves you, and with good reason. If you started acting more like me, people would say I was a bad influence on you."

"Maybe I need a little bit of a bad influence."

He shook his head and stared out at the forest. "You don't need any influence at all. I don't want you to change, Katie. The way you are right now… that's the way I like you."

She gave a small, nervous laugh. "Here I am telling you that you need to change and you just accept me the way I am, faults and all."

"That's because you're already a good person," he muttered.

"And you're not?"

He shrugged. _No_, he almost said, but he couldn't force the word out of his mouth. Next thing he knew, he'd be writing poetry about the blackness of his soul.

She kissed him, light and sweet. "You are a good person, Michael Yew. End of story." She squinted up at the cloud-free sky. "It's a gorgeous day today. Want to go for a ride?"

"With you? Of course."


	5. One

The next summer, Lee died. So did a number of other campers, but Michael felt none of their losses as acutely as he felt Lee's. Lee was the glue that held Cabin 7 together. He got along with everyone, liked everyone, and everyone liked him. Michael felt like a part of him died with Lee.

And now, as the next-oldest, he was the head of his cabin. He was going to have to lead them to war. He was going to have to make decisions that would lead to more of his siblings dying. And nobody wanted him in that position, he knew. He heard one comment about deciding by size rather than age. He'd whirled on the boy who'd said that, a brother of his who was no more than thirteen, and told him if he had so many clever opinions he could challenge Michael to single combat for the position. But his brother just shook his head, muttered something that may have been an apology, and never spoke again in Michael's presence.

He could feel himself coming apart at the seams, and the day he found Katie and Will sitting in the shade of a pine, him guiding her fingers along the neck of a guitar, their heads bowed close together, he lost it.

"This is a fine way to spend an afternoon!" he spluttered.

When Will look up at him, Michael saw his eyes were rimmed with red. But he didn't care at this point.

"We're in the middle of a war! A _war_! And you want to sit around playing guitar?"

"What are we supposed to do, Mike?" Will asked, his voice sounding weak. "Are we never supposed to relax again?"

"Maybe if you weren't so interested in 'relaxing,' Lee wouldn't have died!"

"Lee died fighting for all of us. Don't turn his death into something else to argue about. We're not all interested in being as miserable as you."

Katie bit her lip. "Stop it, both of you."

Will looked away, chastened, but Michael only felt more on fire than ever. "Oh, sure, stick up for him, your new boyfriend!"

"I'm not 'sticking up' for anybody, and he's not—" She broke off, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Not what? Can't even say it, huh? Is it because it's true, or because you wish it was?"

Katie just stared at him steadily, her lips pursed in her best attempt at keeping them from telling him off.

"I can play the guitar too, you know!"

"I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"You could have come to me if you wanted lessons! Why did you go to him, hm? What's the reason?"

"You want to know the reason?" Her eyes were hard. "Because I didn't want to bother you with it. Because you aren't the most patient of people and I didn't want to give us something else to fight about."

"Because you couldn't trust me not to be a dick about it, is that what you're saying?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying, but I'm starting to think maybe that's not untrue."

"Fine. Whatever. I don't care anymore. You can have him. I have more important things to worry about. Do whatever you want."

As he walked away, he could hear her crying quietly behind him, but he was unmoved.

xxx

"Cold showers help with sexual frustration."

Michael's hand tightened into a fist on the unfletched arrows he had come to the Big House to get. "I'm not in the mood, Miranda."

"You're never in the mood," she said, coming up behind him. "What's it like, being so tense all the time?" She stretched her hands out in front of her. "Seriously, you need to get laid."

He turned on her sharply. "Why are you so obsessed with sex? Not everything is about sex. Some of us, for example, just had brothers die."

"All the more reason," she said with a shrug. "Grief, stress, anger, you can work all that out with a good fuck."

"I don't need to hear from some fourteen-year-old virgin about how I supposedly need to get laid," he snapped.

"Who says I'm a virgin?"

"I'm not going to fall for that. You're just a smart-mouthed kid."

Suddenly, she pushed him up against the wall and kissed him hard. The arrows fell out of his hand and clattering noisily to the floor. "Do I kiss like a kid?"

He had to admit she did not. In the low-cut top she was wearing, she didn't really look like a kid, either.

"My sister's the real kid. Crying over everything, never standing up for herself. You know that ship has sailed now, right?"

Michael hardened his jaw. "That's none of your business."

She shrugged. "Maybe not. But I'm just saying, I know what you need. And unlike Katie, I'm willing to give it to you. You could die tomorrow, like Lee. Think about that. It could happen to any of us at any time, the way things are now."

"Why are you doing this? You don't even like me."

"Who says? Not that that matters. 'Like' is entirely optional when it comes to sex. And from what I've seen, you don't have many offers. Do you really want to risk dying a virgin? I wouldn't."

Michael gritted his teeth. "I'm not a virgin."

Miranda laughed. "Yeah, right."

"Fine. So what if I am?"

"_So_, like I said, do you really want to risk dying without seeing what you're missing? _Carpe diem_."

"That's Latin. We're Greek."

"If you don't want to do this, just tell me to stop." And then her hand went down his pants.

He didn't tell her to stop.

xxx

When he opened the door to leave the storage room much later, his hair disheveled and his shirt only half re-buttoned, he found himself face-to-face with Butch, the burly brick-faced unclaimed kid from Cabin 11 who had started seeing Kayla shortly before the Battle of the Labyrinth. He towered over Michael, his expression unreadable.

Miranda appeared in the doorway behind him, her lips cherry red and swollen, her long mane of curly blond hair a complete mess. "Hi, Butch!" she said cheerfully. "We're just about done here, I think. Oh! Wait a second." She ducked back into the room, then reappeared a second later, a pair of lacy panties hanging from her fingertip. "Almost forgot these! How embarrassing would _that_ be." She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity, then leaned over to give Michael a sloppy kiss that was purposely full of way too much tongue. "See you guys later!" Then she dashed off, her panties waving like a flag.

Butch continued to give Michael a hard stare. Michael glared right back. "It's none of your business what I do or with who."

"Whom," Butch corrected.

Michael just shoved his way past Butch, even though it was like trying to shove his way past a brick wall, and ran after Miranda.

"You did that on purpose," he hissed at her.

"Uh, yeah, duh," Miranda said, not slowing her pace. "Were you thinking I _accidentally_ had sex with you?"

"I mean, you want it to get back to Katie!"

Miranda stopped abruptly, turning to face him, her eyes widened in a parody of innocence. "Gosh, you don't think she'll hear about this, do you? That would be awful, just_ awful_!" Then she turned and resumed her brisk pace, throwing her head back and letting out a cackle that would put any cartoon villain to shame.

And Michael stood there, unable to even muster any true anger. He felt used up. He was the scum of the earth.


	6. Zero

Michael remembers all of this, and more. How Katie did find out, as Miranda had wanted, as he knew she would. How he tried to explain what had happened, how Katie had made it clear that it didn't matter. He'd slept with her kid sister. Circumstances aside, that was an immutable fact. He could have said no, and he chose not to.

He remembers how things were never the same between them after that. Even after Katie's hurt and anger finally began to cool, and he felt they'd finally started to pick up the pieces, he knew they could never go back to before. They'd had one summer together. One summer and that was it.

And that was all they'd ever have. As he falls backward from the Williamsburg Bridge, the East River rushing up to meet him, time seems to slow.

He messed it up. But he doesn't regret the time they had together. When he closes his eyes, the last thing he sees is her face.


End file.
